The zookeeper was showing the visitor through the
zoo and animal laboratory.

''Our budget is so small, that we can't afford to re-create
the most known exstinct species, so, therefore, we re-create only
the highly intelligent of the lot, the ones that were purposely
exterminated.''

As the zookeeper ran through his daily banter, the visitor
glanced from left to right, gazing in awe at the mutant creatures
before her; a gorilla with the head of a chimpanzee, a dog with
the face of a cat, a cobra with the body of a komodo dragon.
Definitely failed experiments, indeed.

''Tell me,'' the visitor asked, ''Where do you aquire
all of the data used to ''re-create?'' It doesn't seem as though
the ''experiments'' have been very successful.''

''Mostly from skeletons and skins from the ancient museum,'' he
said.

''Very interesting,'' she said, lighting a cigarette.

''Yes, very,'' said the zookeeper proudly. ''We've also succeeded
in aquiring excavated books and films we were able to restore.''

''Very, very interesting,'' she said with a note of skepticism
in her voice, stopping at the last cage. It was filthy, reeking
of excrement and urine, body odor. It's occupant, skeletal and
sickly, sat naked in a corner of the cage, shivering and
scratching. It's vacant eyes seemed to look right through her,
and beyond, as if it were seeing something invisible to everybody
else.